Tributes and Sacrifices
by xPepperTea
Summary: The following takes place in the 73th Hunger Games, and features stories of three different girls. Different backgrounds, ambitions and desires, but whose fates are connected by a cruel twist of fate. It also brings a new light to lesser known districts
1. Chapter 1 The textile Capital

A light fog covered the streets of district 8, like it almost always does. Sometimes, when the wind is in favor, and the main factories have stopped laboring for a couple of days, there is an chance of actually being able to look at the blue sky, instead of the dark, grayish and smelly clouds of pollution that usually fill the air. Slowly but steadily, the main square, facing the Town hall fills of with thousands upon thousands of citizens, from 12 to 18 years old, expecting the opportunity to escape the terrible fate that most certainly awaits them if their name is called. A decent analogy for this event would a lottery that no one wants to win. An enormous glass cylinder is placed on top of a richly decorated stage, matching the overall scheme of the square: long purple, deep blue and red banners hang from the Town Hall, all proudly bearing the symbols of district 8 – mainly, textile and factory related ones – as well as the ones from the Capitol. Camera crews are installed strategically alongside what are becoming the long rows of youngsters that eagerly await their fate. Surrounding them, heavily armed peacemakers, ready to shoot if a scared soul would try to make a run for it. And there are many good reasons to do so, manly this one: the boy and the girl chosen in today's reaping will be forced to fight to the death with 22 other contestants from the 11 remaining districts. Simply put, there is a 1/23 chance of survival, that is worsen for the couples that originated from poor districts – which is exactly the case in 8. Usually, the players in this death match, appropriately named Hunger Games, are named tributes, but the truth is that there is a distinct difference between the well prepared and motivated players from districts 1, 2 and 4, and almost all of those from the other districts which are sometimes referred as sacrifices. Why? 72 years of Hunger Games editions have proved that, for the most part, they are cannon meat. They usually die in the very first stages of the competition, very often, in brutal and violent ways.

It is with that thought in mind that the crowd gathers around the stage, silently, as the anthem and propaganda movie plays. Each year the same routine carefully choreographed to perfection. That's when an obese wobbling man moves his way in to the sage and greets the crowd. "MUFFIN MAN!" shouts a random voice in the back of the square, where families watch the event, separated from their loved ones. The awkward bit is that he actually looked the part: very heavy on top, with proportionally skinny legs, all dressed in a shinny caramel – toned tuxedo, and with a curvy over sized mustache that outgrew his face on the sides. The young man, around 22, is removed from the area, leaving Muffin Man – a Capitol designated entertainer for district 8 named Jonh Jonhs – with a an embarrassed expression, as the people around him made and effort to muffle their laughter. Next to him, a sturdy 30 or so year old woman, sitting in a dark wooden bench, with her legs crossed. Her eyes look absent, and so does her body language. For the rest of the evening, she will glance occasional at the crowd, but mostly at the sky. Bianca was the last victor for district 8, an rumors account both of her terrible temper and philanthropic bursts. The districts elementary schools were renovated solely on her donations. But it is also said that she owns a collection of dead animal bones, that her diet is composed only of insects and human blood, and all sorts of shenanigans. Regardless of it all, Bianca looks at the sky. Probably making an effort to see beyond the smog, not caring what so ever about what goes on around her. Jonhs then cleared his throat with a soft grunt, proceeded to the great cylinder, and added with a cynical tone "Let's get this show on the road, now shall we?". His hand waved dramatically over it, and he took a pause to dramatically sigh, and then finally, dramatically insert is chubby hand in the cylinder, and then quickly grabbed a paper. It took less than one second to unfold it, and he proceeded with a high pitched tone:

- Cosette Williams!


	2. Cosette

Wait, what? Why is everybody looking at me? The 17 year old girl with the really long ponytail though, as the crowd stared at her in horror. The girl next to her had gone into some sort of hysterical state, were she had to be removed from her sight. Shrieks of grieve were heard coming from all places. The world felt like a hazy memory of someone else s life, as Cosette realized she had just been chosen to die. Me? Why me?  
Miss Wiliams, dearest, would you please oblige to come join me? Jonh Jonhs asked with a solemn voice, stretching his hand for her. My 379 teasarae entrances have finally come to bite me in the butt, she thought as the crowd opened room for her. Soon she had reached the corridor that separated boys from girls, and walked down slowly, soaking in every weeping face in her sight. For a split second, she felt some relief in knowing her death would be mourn by a lot o people. Good friends whose company she wouldn t have the chance to enjoy anymore. The warm fuzzy feeling that came from the wave of care towards her, quickly turned in to a sharp pain. A pain that strikes those who suffer and unjust fate, and must die because of somebody else s war, somebody else s revenge and somebody else s entertainment. The butterflies in her stomach were quickly becoming loud bees, that ran through her spine and that threatened to make her burst in to tears at any second. But still, she managed to keep it together, until the very moment she steeped on the stage and got a good look on what she had just missed. In the 18 year olds row, her third oldest sister, Anette, was weeping profusely. On the 17 and 16 year olds row, two twin brothers and five nephews and nieces. In the 15 year olds and backwards, more nices, nephews, direct cousins, distant cousins, and even one aunt, her mother s younger sister that stared at her, with wet eyes, lower lip trembling, but without shedding a tear. It took this painful twist of fate, for Cosette to actually realize the full extent of her very large and messy family. Large, messy and awfully complicated, but there was nothing in the world she could have loved more. In district 8, it is traditional and socially correct, to have a large household, with a lot of children to work in the factories. It all makes sense, since most factories in 8 are old fashioned, with obsolete technology. This could be seen as a flaw, but it was actually a strategic decision: high technology usually means unemployment for a lot of specialized workers, and, the increase in production it might bring could lower the prices of goods, severely reducing the districts income. And having a lot of children is sometimes used as a scheme by women to avoid working in the factories. The time in between pregnancies is so small it invalidates any attempt at getting a contract signed. In the end, the women from the working class of 8 must choose between two fates: die of work related accident or decease, or by childbirth. Cosette had chosen the sweaty and smelly path of the factory. It has always been as clear as water that she was not destined to the conventional trajectories of life. By far, the tallest of her sisters, despite being the youngest, Cosette was the only brunette in a family of blondes, which diminished her value in the love market, so to speak. On top of that, she had the opportunity to learn one of the most off the character trades for women: mechanics. Being always dressed in dirty oiled overalls is not the best strategy to attract a mate. But somehow, it happened. 


	3. Familly Business

She saw his shaven head peeking through the crowd, as he opened his way to her. Then, his green eyes filled with anger as he pushed in to the line of peacekeepers, hopelessly trying to get across.

MAX! – Cossette screamed from the top of her lungs – Get out of here, NOW!– and instinctively tried to reach for him, getting off the stage, just to be pinned down by a group of sturdy peacekeepers that dragged back on again. The crowd was getting restless, with people pushing, shoving, screaming and peeking at the action. The chaos distracted Max's peacekeepers and he rushed through the square, running like a lunatic. It was hopeless though. A nearby peacekeeper tased him to the ground, and dragged him of the square, with the shouts of the disapproval from the mob. The cameras were sure to film the scene, which was being broadcasted live to all the nation, reinforcing 8's reputation as a rebellious district. Then it was when, a group of clearly unhappy people, charged at the peacekeepers, and someone ripped half of Muffin Man's moustache, that heavy artillery was brought. With the first shoots at the sky, the commotion eased, giving Johns time to try and pin back his mutilated facial hair back in to place – which he failed. He wove his arms up and down, trying to settle the crowd

- Now that's a party my good people! – he gave a dry laugh - Panem knows there is no show like in 8, am I right?

There was a moment of silence, until someone screamed:

- MUFFIN MAN! – another anonymous person was dragged away from the square, leaving the crowd shamelessly laughing.

The time that took Johns to finally shut up and discipline the crowd, was enough for Cosette to dry her tears, but not enough for the redness on her eyes to vanish. It was clear that she had been sobbing like a baby, and the cameras were too distracted with the attempted riot to pay any attention to her. After all she was just a sacrifice. And, as reality started to sink in, she felt glad that her tears weren't caught on camera_. I decide the way I want to go. I am the master of my own death. I might go down screaming, but definitely not crying. I'm not a little bitch._ She kept that last one as a personal mantra. _I'm not a little bitch. I'm not a little bitch_. Jonhs walked up to her, wrapped his arm around her, and asked:

- What's the matter sugar puff?

_What's the matter with you? Are you retarded? That's why you are a muffin that will never grow up to be a cake!_ – Cosette thought, removing the surprised expression on her face – the result of such an insultuously stupid remark; _I'm going to die fatso!_ – and replaced it with a determined one. With a swift move, she grabbed the microphone from his hands, and facing the cameras straight up, declared:

- I'm just too honored to be a part in the glorious tradition that are the Hunger Games.

He patted her shoulder, and walked away to the cylinder:

- Now, let's see who gets to join you – using your words – in this glorious endeavor… - again, it took him an unnecessarily long amount of time, and a lot of bravado to finally pull off the second name – Oh, now that's unfortunate – he took another pause to sigh and lift his eyes over the paper – DORIAN BABBS!

The crowd open once more, to reveal the figure of a clearly mentally disabled boy. Tesarae rules do not specify the conditions in which someone is eligible to apply. So, his family might took the risk of just signing him, over and over again, sparing is healthy siblings - whom are obviously, the ones who bring food to the table. The boy was not aware of his surroundings, let alone that he had just been sentenced to die.

- Can some one…you know, bring him up here? – Nobody responded to Muffin Man's appeal – Swetheart, can you understand me? I. Am. Jonhs. Can. You. Understand?

The broadcast had taken a turn to the depressive, as some peacekeepers tried to bring a distressed screaming boy on stage. The crowd had just beginning to buzz again, as a little hand stood up. All heads turned when young Alphose Williams declared:

- I'll go. I volunteer to go on his turn.

As the citizens of 8 watched mesmerized, as this brave soul walked across them. Silently, respectfully. Their silence was just broken by the sound banging wood. Cosette had just fallen in to her knees, muffling the screams that tried to escape her mouth with both hands.


	4. The Hero

No one tried to stop her when she ran off stage to hold the little boy. The panicked look on her face contrasted with the serenity in his eyes. We walked with in a fast, but sure pace, stretching his arms for her, with the confidence of a good deed. There was no glimpse of fear whatsoever, and that was what scared her the most. Hasn t he realized what he has done? The crowd stared silently when Cosette finally grasped Alphonse by the shoulder, kneeling down, to look deep in his eyes. From the back of the square, an hysterical scream AL! . Both of them recognized her voice immediately, and for the first time, there was a hint of restlessness in Alphonse s face. He turned back, trying to see his mother, but instead, a camera stood in front of his nose, blocking the view. He could also see Muffin Man approaching with his main camera crew, and he was almost getting caught in the moment when Cosette chook him:  
-Al? Al? He finally looked up to her with a smile Are you insane? Are you? she took a break, gasping for air, looking at the ground, and making a colossal effort not to cry Why why have you done this?  
- Because, wherever you go, I must follow.  
-No, you don t! That makes no sense, you may have just killed yourself!  
He looked slightly disappointed at that remark. Time was running short. He knew Muffin Man s entertainment stunts would delay the inevitable that they would get pulled in to the stage with no further time for explanation, at least until they were probably in the first and last train ride of their lives. -Don t you remember? He asked in a hushed tone.  
It only took a few seconds for it all to come to her, like an avalanche. Alphonse was, like Cosette, the middle child. She, the youngest of four sisters and three younger brothers. Him, in the middle of two girls, one still to be born. They lived in a crammed up household, in which they all had to take care of each other in able to survive. Even though they lived in a two story house near the center of the city, the conditions weren t perfect for a family of 10 there were 11 before Al s father died, and they will soon be 11 again as soon as his little sister is born, that is if, both of them would come back alive. Humidity in the house, as well as the lack of space and proper heating, often lead to deseases and various fights for privacy. Money and other commodities were also a big issue. In a still growing family, it was very difficult to maintain everybody s needs and desires. Often, sacrifices had to be done. Cosette left school at the age of 14, and so did her two younger brothers. Alphonse and Micca were the ones in the family who were still in the education system, and Cosette was making a huge deal off effort to keep it that way. In recent times she had taken extra hours in the factory, as well as occasional work in other factories to be able to grant both her little brother and little nephew with school supplies and tuitions. In 8, school is free until the age of ten as soon as children are taught to read and write they are as educated as they are wanted to be afterwards, the prices skyrocket, undermining the chances for lower class kids to achieve better jobs. But Alphonse was a math whiz, light years from what would be expected from a 12 year old. Cosette had great faith in him. He dreamt of being a teacher. She would make sure that dream would come to be. Micca, unfortunately wasn t so gifted. If he were to fail this year, she would have no choice but to put him to work. For some reason, Cosette also developed a strange love for all things mathematical, and logical. It is unusual to see a 12 year old kid tutoring a much older person, but this was the case, and between equations and long talks about dead animals that turned in to rock, their bond grew bigger along the years. She was the one who picked him up for school each day, and eagerly asked him what he had learned in school. She really missed school. One warm spring afternoon, on their way home, Alphonse was narrating what he had heard in biology class that day:  
-There are creatures that only eat vegetables in the forest!  
-Vegetables? Like lettuce? Vegetables were very uncommon in 8; their diet was almost integrally based in grain and some meat What a life! Cosette put her arms to her back, walking with a dream like expression Oh! I miss eating carrots Hopefully there will be some after the shipment from 11 next week.  
-No, no that kind of vegetable! he argued jokingly leaves! From trees! he said in excitement, pointing at the horizon.  
-Leaves? Leaves are edible? Come on Al! shoving him -Back of auntie, - he said shoving her back it s true, I can prove it. But we will have to get near the fence.  
-Oh great, getting burned to a crisp: just how I expected to end this lovely afternoon -No, we don t have to touch it silly -I know silly, just kidding!  
It took them at least two hours on foot to get to the outskirts of the city. They had to pass through a few dozen factories and neighborhoods to finally get to a flat area in which only a decaying factory rose up. In front of it, a heavily electrified fence, with danger signs all over it. Touching it would mean certain death. Getting caught over the fence would also mean certain death. The people of 8 were effectively trapped in their own district. They approached with caution. Peacemakers often patrolled the area, looking for possible escapees. Cosette disliked the place. The woods were completely foreign to her, as well as much any nature element that was not meant to eat. But it surely smelled better that the rest of the city. Twilight was approaching, and she began to feel uneasy.  
-Listen kiddo, as soon as the sun sets we are off, ok? she said, stoking his hair or else I m pretty sure Micca will eat your supper.  
-Shh he whispered and pulled her hand, as they both walked almost silently nearby the fence. Through the square shape of the fence, they could clearly see the silhouettes of thousand of pine trees, as the sounds of the awakening animals of the forest. This was a sight of color, sound and peace that was often unseen in the city. Cosette had almost forgot that there were so many shades of green, yellow and orange, and stared in aw when Al pulled her arm and pointed to a bush nearby. It started to move violently, which caused her to take a step back, and then a few further. It was one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen in her life. So elegant, with shinny fur adorned with spotted patterns.  
-What is it Al? she asked him with eyes wide open, watching it eat -It s a deer he answered quietly, not to disturb it see, he is eating leaves!  
-Not tree leaves, bush leaves!  
-Still leaves, Cosette! He might eat leaves from trees too!  
-What do you know about deers?  
-More that you, obviously! he replied, crossing his arms in defiance wait, it s not a he, it s a she! She has no antlers!  
And as they looked at the deer again, a cub joined them. Small and delicate, but as wonderful as its mother was. It gently pushed its way under the mother to feed itself, wagging its tail. Instinctively, Alphonse grabbed Cosette s skirt at the bottom. It was a habit that he was still trying to quit in the present time. He used to walk around town, grabbing her skirt. A small dark haired like his deceased father boy, that looked as frail and vulnerable as he was adventurous. But still, wanting and needing the protection and care that his mother so often refused to give him. Not on purpose though. His mother, regardless of staying at home, had a lot on her hands, doing laundry and sewing for rich citizens. As a widow with a growing family she had no choice. Cosette took the job as surrogate mother, a role that she played gladly. Their presence finally scared the two deer s off, that run together in to the forest, as the sun sat in front of them.  
-That s what a good kid does, see? Wherever she goes, he follows. There is no way he could get lost she said with a smirk, remembering him of the times he used to get lost in the market because he had forgotten to hold her hand and be latter found crying, next to a fat peace maker! Even though this was an embarrassing event for Al, they both laugh it off.  
-Deal, wherever you go, I ll follow.  
Those words were echoing inside Cosette s skull. Wherever you go, I ll follow? Have I made you do this? There was no turning back at that point. The baby deer had decided to follow mommy deer to slaughter. What a brave silly deer; she thought to herself caressing his face. She got up, grabbed his hand tightly, as if she was afraid to lose him, and looked around. Thousands of faces with tears in their eyes stared back at them. The ones closer to the runaway tried to touch them, pat their backs, give them any type of physical comfort that might calm their spirits. Cosette was secretly grateful, deeply touched by the gesture, but at that point in time she had chosen to stick with the determined attitude she had started with. There was no way that she could forget that every single moment of that reaping was being broadcasted live, and that whichever emotion she portrayed would be interpreted by her fellow tributes. Not too week neither too confident, she thought and then looked down at Alphonse that, once more, had grabbed the bottom of her skirt and was facing the sky. She couldn t read his mind; he didn t even bothered to look at her, so self absorbed in his own thoughts. What makes a healthy, happy 12 year old make a suicidal decision? She had no clue. Instead she just pulled him closer to her, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, and even before they could process it, Muffin Man was pushing them on stage, shoving is big metal microphone in the boy s face. -Alphonse, Alphonse sweetie, what made you volunteer? He asked, truly curious, has was the rest of district 8.  
-I had to do the right thing. Auntie always does the right thing, and so do I he responded and Cosette gasped like the heroes from story books.  
There was nothing that could have prepared the presenter for such a well thought answer. There was sureness in his voice that indicated that he meant business. Maybe that was just the self image that we wanted Panem to buy: the young brave boy that volunteered for a fellow citizen. But somehow, he seemed sincere. He probably hadn t had the time to weigh the actual costs of his gesture: only one comes alive from the Hunger games arena. Which obviously meant that him or his aunt were going to die. Simple logic really. And there was no super hero that could defeat the Capitol. -Heroes huh? Jonhs asked playfully, trying to milk some adorable children talk out of him.  
-Heroes can be princes and princesses, they can be normal people or different from everyone you have ever known. They always step up no matter the situation. And believe me, I know he placed his palm against his chest and added, with a confident tone because I ve read hundreds of books! -Yes, he is the hero, and I am his sidekick Cosette replied am I right Al?  
-Of course! Alphonse hugged her by the hips and buried his face on her dress. For the first time she could feel some palpable distress in him. His palms sweaty, is body cold and shaky.  
Night was closing in on 8, and it was about time to wrap up the ceremony, which lasted a lot longer than it should. People were stressed, emotional, and some of them, actually injured. There were arrests, fights and commotion enough to fill a whole week of news. Jonhs finally decided to wrap things up, placing himself amongst the two tributes, and holding up their arms, concluded:  
-Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of district 8 for the 72nd Hunger Games! And may the odds be on your favor.  
No one cheered and the show was over. 


	5. Red Ribbon

Before being sent to the train, all tributes had the right to say their final goodbyes to family and friends. The line inside Town Hall to see both Cosette and Alphonse was so large that it had to be sorted out: only close family members (this was an important one, because the Williams family tree stretched almost across to almost all of 8), close coworkers and friends, and Max. He had been released with a warning. Peacekeepers were usually permissive with hysterical loved ones in the reaping context. She was sitting in the corner of a heavily decorated room. Tons of deep purple and gold were predominant, especially in the lining of the chairs and fully sofas. Instead, she sat next to the window, staring at the foggy silhouette of the rising moon. A hand touched her shoulder and she turned back to see Brigitte, her older sister, knelling next to her with red eyes.  
-Listen, I know there is no way I can ask you this, but I have to ask you this - she started, only to be cut off by Cosette -You don t have to she tried to smile I ll do it.  
-You realize what that means, right?  
-I must die to send Alphonse home. She got up pulling Bridgette to her embrace. And she hugged her back, tightly. Bridge, you were more than a mother to me: my best friend, my confident, my ground. That s it. You were the ground, the earth that allowed me to grow. There is nothing in this world I wouldn t do for you. And for Al. I adore him with every beat of my heart.  
-I love you so much dear sister, more than you will ever know. And so does he she looked in her face and a tear fell to her long blond curls I could never, in a thousand years, thank you enough.  
-Again, you don t have to.  
Their mother was never the nurturing type. And so wasn t their father. In that sense, they were perfect for each other. Miran and Dortmund Williams would never be crowned parents of the year. Their seven children could not be used as an excuse not to be more present. Both of them quit their jobs as soon as the income of children as enough to sustain the house and their habits. Drinking habits, per say. They could spend a whole week without showing up at home, especially after pay day. All work fell in to Brigitte s shoulders, which singlehandedly raised 6 brothers until the day she herself got married. And even then, she could not find the courage to leave them behind. Specially Cosette. She was just 5 at the time, and completely helpless. That was the Cosette she remembered as she stared at her. Her face lighten by the moonlight. Then, the rest of the family stormed through the room, and her mother dramatically shoved Bridgette away, grabbing Cosette and saying between heavy alcohol scented kisses:  
-Oh, my baby! My sweet little baby! I can t believe you are going to die!  
Well, tanks a lot mom! Nice way to sugar coat it!, she thought, releasing herself from her grasp. Around her stood her other brothers, trying to conceal their sadness with a soft smile. Her second oldest sister, a short chubby, and very blond young woman called Rosette, grabbed a red ribbon from her apron pocket. She no longer lived at the family s house, instead she got married at 17 and left to the outskirts of the town. She ran away, as far as possible, from her parents. Sometimes, she secretly visited her siblings, always at the work place. She tied the ribbon on Cosette s high pony tail.  
-Mechanics are allowed to use red. It looks great on you.  
She tried to answer with a smile, when her two twin brothers held her at the same time, almost cutting off her air. They were not identical, since Deimos had gotten much bulkier than Phobos. Long hours working at the quarry can do that to a person. Besides that, they were almost identical: very tall and dark haired, like their sister, but with blue eyes, like the rest of the family. -Damn Cosette, we told you not to sign so many times to tesarae! You never listen mumbled Phobos, between sobs -You have 400 entries yourself -But I m stronger than you! -Thanks a lot bro! She replied with angst. It was very unpleasant to be underestimated, but, at the same time she could you that as an advantage.  
-Sorry Cossie. I love - staring at his twin we love you very much!  
Then came running Micca, that hugged tried helplessly to hug the three of them, until he was given the space for a moment with his sister. He was the only blond boy in the family, with such pale complexion that made him look like a doll. His curly hair reminded Cosette of the angels that the ancestors worshiped. A long time ago, in the time of abundance and irresponsibility, people believed that there was something other than this life. -Stay in school, yes? she asked him, kissing his cheek I know you can do it! Can you promise me that you will, at least try?  
-Yes Micca wasn t holding his tears don t die. I miss you already!  
In the other side of the room, standing in the shadows against the wall, Dortmund was smoking a cigarette. The faint yellow light shimmered until he finally threw it to the ground, walking towards her. She tried really hard to recollect some kind of happy memory of him. Something comforting, to give her strength. But the only slightly decent thing she reminded him doing was fathering Alphonse, after the precocious death of his father, even before he was born. No father, no last name that s the law in 8. -Anette couldn t make it. She had to be sedated he stated with a blank expression -Please, give her my good clothes when she wakes up. I m sure she will appreciate them.  
-I know.  
-Not the green and red ones, she can t wear those colors -I know.  
There was an awkward silence until he finally leaned on her shoulder and whispered in to her ear: You were never my favorite one. Too nice and moralist for my taste, honestly. But I never wished you any harm, and now I wish you the best of luck to do whatever you are planning to do. That remark almost broke Cosette s spirit, making her want to shout the worst profanities at his face. But he continued. And, I love you, ok? , ok she whispered back.  
Time was running short, and Maxwell peaked at the door. That was the cue for all of them to leave. Between hugs and kisses, they finally left the young couple alone, standing in front of each other, paralyzed. There was a whole long room keeping them apart, at least until Max drew a faint smile across his face, which made Cosette jump to his arms. With her legs tightly wrapped around his waist, she grabbed his face, and looked directly in to his eyes. For a couple of seconds she tried to reach his soul, the very core of his being, to convey feelings that she could not express verbally. There was something about him, his touch, his smell, his embrace that made her feel safe. Not the type of motherly safety she got from Bridgette, but something much stronger, that made her believe that she could take the world by storm. Being with him made her think of the future, of babies, a home, growing old, and all types of nonsense that make normal people happy. So she kissed him, with passion, eagerly soaking every second of it. At the back of her mind she could almost see the moment they met. The main ceiling fan at the peacemaker uniform factory had broken. Factories are by norm hot noisy and smelly, but without some sort of cooling system, they became a nightmarish torture device. Therefore she was called to repair said thing. Little did the factory s owners know that that was one of her first solo repairs. It takes at least 7 years of apprenticeship to actually become a fully certified mechanic. She was just in her third, highly dependant of her master s guidance, whom unfortunally was too ill to join her that day. Holding her very heavy tool case, she climbed up the metal beams of the factory, until she finally reached a place to wobble and jump to the fan. It was a risky move, but certainly not as risky as using the almost rotten wooden staircase the factory offered her. After getting to the main system of the fan, she tried to pull its motor out, in order to clean it from dust particles, which seemed to be the problem. But, instead of carefully removing it, she pulled it in such a way that a heavy screw got loose, bounced of the fan and hit her right on the forehead. With the impact, she momentarily lost her senses, as well as the grip on the fan and fell off. That would have been a very serious, if not life threatening injury, if the fall hadn t been cushioned by Max s body, that naively tried to catch her. At the speed she felt, it was obviously too much weight for him to handle, so they both hit the ground. They were both ok, but he took most of the impact, and still was able to shake Cosette back to her senses.  
-Hi there. she said grabbing her forehead in pain. did i fell?  
He shook his head, affirmatively. -Well, it s nice to meet you! More than nice actually, it s wonderful. Thanks for catching me and all she giggled I m pretty sure you are my new hero! I m Cosette Williams, and I work as a mechanic at the fine cloths factory. This right here she pointed at the fan was a favor. My master owes the factory owner something bites me, I don t know what! she expected him to introduce himself, but he kept silent uh if you ever need something from me, not hesitate to ask she paused again, waiting for a proper introduction, that didn t happen; this both confused and annoyed her Really? What? Have we met before? Have I been rude to you? Come on dude!  
And then, a weaver shouted at her: He is a mute, Williams! which made her blush to her bones.  
-Erm I m sorry! She looked at him, in shame, and all he did was scribble on note book he kept on his pocket. The note said You talk too much. I m Max, nice to meet you Then they realized that they were still sitting in the dirty ground, wasting time while they should be working. None of their bosses would appreciate that. Both got up and shook hands, and their eyes crossed. Just for a split second and it was enough. Max ran to his old clunky motorcycle; he was already running late for a cloth delivery. Trains do not wait for tardy couriers. The next week he staked her, watching her leave the factory every single day. And in the following week he waited for her with a bouquet of stolen flowers. They were inseparable ever since.  
Their lips finally separated and he carried her to a golden chair next to the painting of a beautiful landscape that clearly wasn t located on district 8. Then he pulls of a cylindrical metal device, similar to a very thick round bracelet, and inserted her wrist in it. Cosette s face lit up. That was the most wonderful gesture a man could ever do to a woman. A tear ran across her face, but she could not help but giggle and give a wide smile. The kind of smile she thought would never happen again.  
-Are you sure about this? You will be a widow very soon she asked, and his eyes said yes. He also looked emotional, but kept it together, trying to make the little machine work.  
That was a wedding bracelet. In 8 when couples decide to get married, they may or may not decide to celebrate it, but it is mandatory to go to Town Hall and use said device. It was basically a special tattoo machine. Tattoos are literally used as a method to brand people. Workers bear the specific code of their factory on the shoulder, criminals have specific marks, according to the degree of their misconduct, tattooed on the hands, and finally, married couples get swirly designs on the right wrist. They were permanent and a good way to see whose people had more than one official partner.  
-Where did you get these? It usually takes months to rent them Max answered her question with a playful smirk, and then she was positively sure that he had stolen it. Being mute made him extra sensitive of sounds around him, and that was a great advantage when someone wants to be silent and live under the radar. I love you, you know? You are the only man I have ever loved or had any interest for that matter in my life, and I just want you to know how much you mean to me; before it s too late.  
It was not the first time she confessed her love. Cosette was not shy about her feelings and opinions. And he loved it about her; she spoke for both of them. But, due to the circumstances, that felt more like a goodbye than anything else, so, to stop her from talking he kissed her, deeply. The bracelet was then put in Maxwell s arm and he got the exact same tattoo as his wife. It was just their own design, unique for them alone. They both new this state of bliss wouldn t last for much longer. Soon, a peacemaker would storm in the room and reality slowly started to sink in again. The tension could be cut with a knife, when Max showed Cosette a note saying If the kid dies for some reason, promise me you won t kill yourself. She clenched at the idea. The thought of coming back to 8 without Al was almost too much to handle. But, in second thought, he had a point. It was not going to happen. She would never let that happen, but, if by chance she were to outlive her nephew, she promised to do her best effort to come back to him. And what an effort it would be! But a very worthy one. 


	6. Sweetest Sacrifice

The train ride to the Capitol usually takes around 2 days, even in the best conditions and with the best trains available. As tributes Cosette and Alphonse were to be treated with the very best of everything until the moment were they were supposed to be shoved in an arena and fight to the death. They were escorted to the train station by Muffin Man, the elusive Bianca and a couple of young buffed peacemakers with scars across their face. In front of them, the shiniest train model to cross the district. It stood there in is red glory, looking as invitive as giant candy, luxurious both on the outside and the inside. The golden wheels looked like they had just been polished, and Cosette was struck, glancing at every detail. In a dark and grey world, like district 8, every bit of color is soaked in and enjoyed like a rare delicacy. They were about to hop in, when an old man grabbed her from behind, only to be pushed away by peacekeepers. He shouted at them, aggressively I am her master! Let me pass! . She confirmed that it was actually him. Despite being very ill a condition that had been going for a long time he found the strength to come see her. Someone must had warned him that his apprentice was chosen to be a tribute, because he was in bed rest since the beginning of the week. He cough some blood in to a white napkin and Cosette finally wrapped her arms around him.  
-You shouldn t be here master, it s too cold for your health condition she pulled his white hair from his wrinkly forehead. He looked as funky as usual: big tangled white hair pulled back by a huge pair of welding goggles, and his signature red jumpsuit, so dirty at places that some might wonder it had ever been washed. -I had to. There was no way I would let you go like this. I don t want your last memory of me, and my last memory of you, to be you force feeding me soup!  
-It was for your own good! You heard de doctor, right? Hot drinks, chicken soup and bed rest.  
-Honey, in my condition I might as well run naked and drink until I drop he pointed out Maybe we should race. Let s see who gets to die first!  
Muffin Man covered Alphonse s ears at this point and Bianca crossed her arms waiting for the development of such a weird conversation.  
-Who told you I m planning on dying?  
-Come on, do you think I believe you are not going to sacrifice for the kid? I can read you like a book, and you are a very predictable book Cosette. He smirked Ah, now that s the look! The angry face. That s the last thing I want you to share with me. When you pull out that face it reminds me why I chose you as an apprentice in the first place!  
They could not help but laugh. It was their style, sort of a modus operandi. They were a great team because they accepted to learn both from each other, and from their mistakes. They hugged one another, actually wondering who would win the bet.  
-Red does look great on you. Matches the color of your eyes he added with a playful tone, and he walked the opposite direction, never looking back.  
That was the man she most admired in the world. He shared every relevant piece of knowledge she possessed at the date. Looking at Bianca s distant expression, she could not help but wishing that he was their mentor.  
The group stepped in to their carriage where a richly garnished dinner table waited for them. All types of deliciously smelling dishes sited on the table awaiting them. It didn t took half a second for the Williams to sit down and start shoving everything at sight in their mouths. The flavors felt like a dance in their tongues, and Cosette was especially delighted with a fine place of various vegetables, seasoned with colorful toppings. Alphonse had just stuck a whole chicken leg in his mouth, when he almost spat it out, in shock. Muffin Man was removing his fat! Or it looked like so. Cosette stopped a spoon half way to her mouth when she saw him remove the padding on his belly, some fake prosthetics of his face and his also, obviously fake moustache. The last one was the only part they thought was unnatural. Jon Jonhs finally revealed his true face: a skinny young man, in its late 20, with high cheek bones and his hair shaved on the left. The remaining fell to the right side of his face, in a deep blue wave.  
-Oh shit no! Who are you? Cosette asked dropping her spoon, and silently apologizing to Alphonse for cussing. -I m Jon Jonhs, but definitely Muffin Man. He is just a character I pull off in your district, so to remain anonymous on my own.  
-Why would you do that? she continued asking, but her and Al were the only ones who seemed astonished by his transformation. Bianca, like always, bushed her short raven hair backwards, and it was clearly visible that she didn t give a damn about him.  
-I enjoy my current occupation, but my deepest dream it to be a main stylist at the Hunger Games. So, I m starting low, as an assistant to your future stylist. And you must he accentuated the must part keep this a secret.  
-Your double life?  
-Yes, my double life. And you should know about double lives - he added.  
This remark made Cosette silent, and it finally gave space for Bianca to intervene in the conversation.  
-I believe it s past bed time for Al. something in her dark eyes revealed that she had something to share, and that that something was not meant for Alphonse s ears. She laid her head on both her hands, finally taking a good look at both tributes. A long tribal style tattoo stretched from the top of her shoulders to her back. Another one, an arrow, was placed on the inside of her left forearm. On her nose, a ring; another two, larger ones, dangled from her left ear. Rumors circulated on 8 about her appearance, and all of them seemed to be truth. Cosette was actually exited to meet her. She was elusive enough to be mysterious, but at the same time, a public figure. She grabbed her nephew by the hand, and a helpful waitress escorted them to his room. After tucking him in, she came back to the table, to see Jons and Bianca in opposite sides, facing the other way. This made her feel uncomfortable, but still she sat there and tried to munch on some carrots. It took an unusual amount of time for Bianca to break the silence. She was not much of a talkative person, Cosette figured.  
-So, what is your plan?  
-My plan? The question made her uneasy am I supposed to have one?  
-Yeah, you have she gave a dry laugh and proceeded I see your point of view. Most tributes have a 1 in 23 chance to get out alive. Yours resembles zero. Still, if you wish to save the child you must come with a plan and stick to it!  
It took a while for Cosette to answer with a hopeless sigh I have absolutely no idea what to do.  
She then proceeded to gaze at her plate. It was as empty as her head. She had never thought of the actual measures it would take to save Alphonse. She would probably have to fight and kill other people, as well as trying to survive and keep him alive. -Listen, let s be realistic. The odds are not in your favor Bianca added with sarcasm You have no fighting or survival skills. You never picked up a weapon, hunted, gathered food, searched for water and shelter, and so on. Simply put, nature is against you.  
-That s wonderful she raised her head to say so, your plan is to get myself killed as fast as possible?  
-No, but it might get you killed in the first day. You must rely on the supplies given at the cornucopia; there is no way around it. Meaning you must fight like a career. Kill and take the food.  
First, butterflies rose in Cosette s stomach. The idea of killing someone was just unthinkable. She liked people, and people usually liked her back. For her it was always been really easy to make friends, and very painful to lose them. She couldn t see herself as someone that harms others with no purpose. But the truth is that she actually had a purpose, and a very strong one. So, the dark and twisted side of her brain started to soak in the idea, rationalizing murder as a decent option.  
-I can t force you to do anything. This just my humble experienced advice. All the others that preceded you perished because they weren t furious enough, they didn t wanted it enough. But you have a motivation that goes beyond your own survival. You should harness that. Bianca finished getting up from the table and heading to her room Think about it.  
Cosette didn t say a word. She could almost feel the texture of blood on her hands. First fluid, then sticky. Almost smell it. It made her sick. Jons laid his hand on her shoulder and patted it as he also left to his room. She remained quiet, frozen in her seat for a while, listening to the wheels and engines on the moving train. Trying to imagine how they worked relieved her mind for a little while, but a gut feeling was heaving on her mind. The realization that Alphonse might had just, undeliberately, killed her. If he had just stayed put, not volunteering and being brave and all, she would only bear the burden of fighting solely for her own survival. No third parties involved; just twenty three other tributes would stand in her journey back to district 8. She had never felt anything similar in her life. Was she resenting Alphonse? The idea made her anxious. Questioning her dedication for the little boy was a little more than she could handle. It was half past three in the morning and her thoughts were consuming her soul, so, she felt like there was no other option but to confront him. Step by step, slowly and quietly, she picked at every door trying to find Al s room, but in the first half dozen there were only snoring stewardesses in sight. Until, through a door she could finally see his little eyes, shimmering in the dark. Face covered to the nose, completely wrapped in the blankets, like a cocoon. Cosette knew that look. He was terrified. -Hi she said softly, sitting next to him you were supposed to be a sleep weren t you little fellow? But I m actually glad you are awake - she had trouble continuing her speech, because the believing, even if for a split second, that Al planed on killing her was just too painful may I ask you something?  
-Yes he answered with a tremble voice beneath the sheets But only if I get to ask you something first: Have I done anything wrong?  
- I m not sure Al looking away, too embraced to face him Please tell me the real reason why you volunteered. I m not your teacher or Jonhs; there is no wrong answer, just the truth.  
He fully uncovered his head, looking slightly confused. He had already answered that question. Well, twice. With two different answers. The weather turned: from the bright full moon in the outskirts of 8, to a dark and cloudy night, that was quickly turning in to a violent storm. The wind shook the trees outside heavily and it started to rain.  
-I told you already. Wherever you go, I ll follow. His hand seeked hers, and lit by his touch, she looked back at him your answer as the real one then Al climbed to Cosette s lap and laid his head on her shoulder. I cannot live without my real mommy.  
Without second thought, she held him, hugging him closer to her chest. Tears of joy ran through her face. What just happened there was wrong, in a million different levels, but at least for a while, she decided to embrace the moment. There would be plenty of time to clarify parenthood issues, but not now. The bond that united them was stronger that the heroes from his storybooks, that the power that electrified the fences in 8, than the machines that gave her a purpose. It was much more than all of those combined. Then she realized what she had always known: dying for Al was the sweetest of sacrifices 


End file.
